Early Days
by anitafromscotland
Summary: A short (so far) ficcie about Aragorn and his mother, Gilraen, shortly after they arrived in Rivendell. I may continue with other snippets from Aragorn's childhood.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Early Days  
  
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me.  
  
Summary: A sort of history of Aragorn and his mother, Gilraen, arriving at Rivendell and how they settled there. Might go more into Aragorn's childhood, depends on how big the plot-bunny grows. (And you know what I feed the plot-bunny? Reviews! Hint, hint.) This first part is Gilraen's POV. Aragorn is about 3 years old. All criticism, praise, comments, opinions and plot ideas welcome. In fact, the only things that aren't welcome are flames.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Gilraen smiled softly as she watched her son playing on the soft carpet before her. In these dark times, he was the only thing that could bring her happiness. To her, it seemed that every move he made, everything he did made her love him more.  
  
He made her happy, and she knew she needed him. After Arathorn's death she had retreated inside herself, unable to cope with the pain and loss, and none among the Dunadan had been able to help her. It was only here, safe in Rivendell, that she found peace.  
  
She winced as she pricked her finger with the sharp needle she was holding, and reminded herself that daydreaming wasn't productive. Technically, she could leave her darning for Lord Elrond's servants, but the idea made her uncomfortable. Living in the wilds with the Dunadan had taught her to be self-sufficient, and to do everything that needed done herself. She didn't like the idea of burdening the Elves with more work, and besides, the repetitiveness relaxed her, giving her something to focus on to keep away the unwelcome thoughts that plagued her mind.  
  
She jumped and pricked her finger for a second time when she looked up to check on Aragorn, or Estel now, and saw a dark-haired Elf sitting beside him.  
  
Hearing her gasp, he turned and stood, before bowing. "I apologise if I startled you. Lord Elrond sent me to inform you that lunch is ready, and hopes that you will join us."  
  
"Is Aragorn also invited?"  
  
"Of course." She smiled at that. Whereas rich humans they had sometimes stayed with much preferred children to be not seen nor heard, the Elves were delighted by small children. If she wasn't careful, Aragorn would grow up thoroughly spoilt.  
  
"Then I would be delighted to come." The messenger smiled at that, bowed once more, and retreated out into the hallway. She picked up Aragorn, checking him for dirt. Even if the Elves did love children and understood how hard it was to keep them clean, tidy and quiet, she didn't want them thinking that she took no care of him. The Elves were always immaculate, which made her feel somewhat insecure.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Even though this meal was just routine to the Elves, Gilraen, as always, felt like she'd stepped into a beautiful dream. Soft laughter and melodious voices hummed around the room, and gentle lights illuminated beautiful faces and clothing. Aragorn was luckily on his best behaviour, which was most likely due to the two identical Elves sat on his other side. They had spent the meal amusing him with small jokes and tricks, such as pulling a dinner roll out from behind his ear.  
  
None of the Elves had attempted to strike up a conversation with her yet, which Gilraen felt quite glad about. All the Elves looked quite alike to her, and she was having trouble remembering their names. She didn't want to offend anyone she had already met by forgetting who they were. She wasn't overly worried though; the Elves all seemed very good-natured, and so far she hadn't seen any get angry, or even slightly irritated, even when Aragorn had just knocked some expensive wine all over a new cream-coloured rug.  
  
But then, Aragorn was a child, and the Elves doted on him. She wasn't sure if they'd be as forgiving with her.  
  
Stabbing her fork into a piece of pork she was surprised when it was so tender it broke in half. After several more unsuccessful attempts, she gave up and started using her fork as if it were a spoon. She saw a female Elf across from her doing the same thing, so she thought it must be okay.  
  
Noticing that the twins were now talking to each other she turned her full attention back to Aragorn, who had just put his elbow in her gravy while reaching for her wine.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Excuse me?" Gilraen turned, and almost fell trying to curtsey while holding a sleeping child. Luckily, Lord Elrond caught her arm and restored her balance.  
  
"Please, you do not need to curtsey every time you see me. It would get very tiring for you, and I was hoping we could develop a less distant relationship than that." He peered into her careworn face. "Is there anything troubling you? You were very quiet at the feast."  
  
"I am sorry, my Lord. I must confess that I am not very good with names. I was worried I might offend someone by forgetting I'd already met them."  
  
"Don't worry. All here will understand that this is a difficult time for you, and that it is hard when you first move somewhere. In time, you will come to know everybody you need to. You do not need to memorise everyone from the start. You have only been here two weeks."  
  
His low voice calmed her, and she couldn't help but relax. "If you do not mind, Lord Elrond, I need to retire to my rooms. Aragorn's exhausted, and I'm not much better."  
  
"I apologise. It has been so long since mortals stayed here I had forgotten how much they need sleep. Please, excuse me."  
  
Weary, depressed, and unsure whether or not his last comment had been insulting, she returned to her rooms.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: This first part was quite short, for two reasons. One: I want to start the next day as a new chapter (new day, new chapter.) and two: because I always like feedback on a fic before I write tons (so if everyone goes 'this is crap' etc I probably won't write much more. If I do, I won't post it. And that was a hint to review, in case you missed that. ;-). 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am so very sorry for the 1st person-3rd person switching in the last chapter. I normally write 1st person, and I guess it just comes automatically now. Also, my beta reader had disappeared (mouse broke) so had no one to point out my stupid mistakes. Oh, and please review!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Estel ran through the lush, verdant garden, examining every tree, bush and flower for brightly coloured paper. Spotting an unnatural shade of red in a dark green bush, he smiled in excitement.  
  
Inside the twist of paper was a fruity hard-boiled sweet. Estel sucked it with relish, savouring its flavour as he rolled it round his tongue. Today was his sixth birthday, and Elladan and Elrohir had organised this treasure hunt as a special treat. Rounding the next corner, he saw his mother. Sitting under a tree, legs curled under her, embroidery on her lap, he thought she was more beautiful than any of the Elves here.  
  
He ran towards her, hunt forgotten, and threw himself down onto his knees on the soft grass beside her.  
  
"Estel! Calm yourself. It is far too hot to run about so energetically." She gave a rare laugh, full of joy and rich amusement. "How much treasure have you found, my son?"  
  
He proudly displayed the empty wrappers collected in his pocket. "All these."  
  
"Good! But look, Estel, you've got grass in your hair! And all over your clothes, and all these little seeds. What have you been doing?" Estel patiently submitted to his mother's searching hands, wondering why she always made such a fuss over his appearance. No one else did, unless you counted Lindir. But Lindir was always fussing at someone.  
  
Brushing those thoughts aside, he turned to more cheerful matters. In a few weeks, they were going to visit the Dunedain. He couldn't wait; though he knew he would miss the Elves. They were so much more fun, and everything in Rivendell was so much nicer. And he could also understand the Elves better. The men spoke a strange language, and sometimes he didn't know what they meant. He didn't like to mention that to his mother, though. It made her look sad, and she already looked sad so often. He liked making her laugh and smile. He just wished he knew what upset her. Whenever he asked, she said she'd tell him when he was older, which nearly always led to him sulking in his room, or the gardens, or wherever else he could be alone.  
  
His mothers eyes flicking up was the only warning he got before he was swept up high into the air, and spun round and round in giddy circles. The owner of the strong arms holding him eventually took pity on his gleeful shrieks and cries for mercy, and lowered him till he was cradled against a muscled chest.  
  
"El'ohir!" Aragorn had never had trouble telling the twins apart - to him the difference between them had always been obvious. What this difference was though, he couldn't say.  
  
"Hello, Aragorn. Have you finished that treasure hunt so soon?"  
  
"Yeth. 'Twas easy!"  
  
Elrohir shook as he laughed. "Ye-s. Sss. Not 'yeth'." He walked back towards where Gilraen reclined. "But it is good you have finished. You should both come, and get ready. A great feast has been prepared in celebration of your birthday, with all your favourite foods."  
  
On the ground, Gilraen shook her head. "Oh, Estel, I'm sorry, but I don't know if I feel up to it. But you go, have fun."  
  
"No!" If there was one thing Estel knew, it was that he wanted to spend this day with his mother, and Elrohir and Elladan and Elrond and Glorfindel and Erestor and everybody. "Mama, you have to come! Please, please come! I don't want to go if you're not coming."  
  
"Do come, Gilraen. No one will mind if you retire early, but perhaps eating something would restore your spirits." He frowned, marring his fair face. "Would you like to visit my father? Maybe you have some mild sickness, that could be treated."  
  
"Nay, that will not be necessary. I'm just feeling slightly under the weather. Most likely it is nothing." She started to push herself up, gathering her things. "But yes, I will come. After all, Estel, it is your birthday."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hours later, a much sleepier Estel curled on his mother's lap, happy to just enjoy the lulling music from the musicians currently playing. Aromas, some meaty, some spicy, some fresh tangled in the air, intermingling with each another. Normally these would have sent him in search of food, but he was feeling contentedly full, and knew that eating anything else would make him feel slightly sick.  
  
All through the evening he had enjoyed being the centre of attention, and had gradually relaxed enough that he didn't burrow into his mother's side every time a stranger approached. This made him very glad his mother was there, because although Elladan and Elrohir were very fun to play with, he didn't want them to think he was a baby. His mother was also easier to burrow into, all soft and warm.  
  
Feeling his eyelids droop, he furiously blinked them open. Normally, he would have been carried off to bed long before now, and he had no intention of ruining it by falling asleep! He also wanted to answer a few questions - like, what colour did the sky go when it was really late at night? He knew how dark it went earlier on, but did it go especially dark at mid-night? Stifling a yawn, he sleepily watched a pair of dancers in front of him. Swaying and spinning, the red cloth of her skirt seemed almost hypnotic, and gradually his eyes lost focus, before slowly sliding shut.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Gilraen smiled as she stroked her sleeping son's soft hair, coiling deep brown strands around her fingers. Although she still preferred Aragorn, she understood Elrond's reasons for keeping his true identity from him, and Estel was strangely fitting. After all, he was the only hope left in her life.  
  
Three years she'd lived here, and it still didn't feel right. She had thought she would have adjusted by now, but it was still strange. Rivendell seemed to perfect, and it was just too different from her life with Arathorn. Maybe that life had been hard and exhausting, but it had suited her. Rivendell, where she didn't have to lift a finger, drove her mad. She longed for the day when Estel was old enough for her to leave, and return to her family.  
  
A hand caressed her shoulder, and she looked up at Glorfindel. Tall and blond, he was one of her only friends here. She supposed that Elrond cared, and others, but she felt unsure around them, uncomfortable. They made her self-conscious. Glorfindel was different. He, Lindir and a few of the maids that cleaned her and Estel's rooms were the only ones she felt comfortable around - Lindir because of the way he reminded her of one of her aunts, fussy and irritable, unsure of what to do when things went wrong; the maids because they were like so many of the girls she'd known growing up, gossipy and naively wise, eager for tales of passion and romance, and Glorfindel? Glorfindel just knew when she wanted to be left alone, and when she didn't. What more could she ask?  
  
A soft voice put an end to her musing. "Would you like me to take him up to his room?" He let a hint of mischief creep into his voice. "Or would you like me to take both of you? You look fairly tired yourself."  
  
"No, I'll be alright, but thank you. It was kind of you to offer. But I'd better go."  
  
It was awkward trying to carry Estel, tired as she was. She couldn't help but be grateful when Glorfindel caught up with her in the cool hallway, taking Estel and supporting her, walking them both up to bed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Responses to reviews:  
  
BlackRose1356 - Thanks! And here, more!  
  
Aarie - Wow, someone who knows Elvish. Colour me impressed. And thank-you for reviewing!  
  
Terri - I know, 3rd person/1st person bad. Teach me to be all impatient and not wait for my beta reader.  
  
arabella thorne - Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.  
  
Dragon - Thank-you. It's really nice have people quote bits at me - makes me feel all proud! And hopefully the 1st person thing has been all sorted out.  
  
Linwe Seregon - Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.  
  
Etharei - I'm glad you liked! And I'm also glad you like the way I wrote about Gilraen. Everyone imagines characters differently, so it's hard to be sure if you're getting them right. And here - longer chapter! 1,487 words, to be precise. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I've been awful about updating this, haven't I? I didn't actually mean to continue it, but I got all these ideas... Still, this is probably going to be the last chapter, although it's not really an ending.  
  
Anyway, in the chapter, Bilbo meets a 10 year old Aragorn.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Bilbo sighed, stretching his legs out before him. Who could've guessed that there were places like this, outside the Shire? The chirping birdsong, the gentle breeze, the relaxing peace, the gentle quiet...  
  
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"  
  
...the ear-splitting screams.  
  
Bilbo barely had time to blink before a small, bony, extremely muddy creature fell almost directly into his lap, disturbing his pipe and scattering it's contents all over the grass. The child, for that's what it had to be (could any other creature be so dirty, and utterly unconcerned about getting hurt?), was soon followed by an adult Elf, springing over the wall with an athletic grace, avoiding the tree (and therefore Bilbo) that the child had attempted to use to get down by.  
  
"I am sorry." Th Elf brushed raven-black hair from his shoulders, tossing it down over his back. "I hope he didn't disturb you too much."  
  
"Of course not, no, no," Well, that wasn't entirely true, but, "Who was he?"  
  
"My foster brother, Estel. He's not actually Elf, you see. He's human."  
  
"Aaah." Bilbo paused, contemplating the child who was now disappearing round the end of a flowering hedge. "What's he running for?"  
  
"We're trying to give him a bath."  
  
"He is rather muddy."  
  
"Yes. But Elrohir, my brother, is round there, and should catch him. He's got to come to the banquet, you see."  
  
"Oh yes. The one tonight?"  
  
"Unfortunately."  
  
"Why unfortunately?"  
  
"Because we've been chasing him all morning, and are beginning to run out of time."  
  
"Oh dear." A distant shriek was heard from some other area of the garden. "Was that him?"  
  
"It sounds like Elrohir's got him, but he might not have for long."  
  
"Does he not like being clean?"  
  
"He doesn't like baths. Or dressing appropriately, and we've got to do that too." The Elf seemed quite dismal at that prospect. "He's allowed a fair bit of freedom, and he's become rather...uncivilised."  
  
"Ah, well. He is only....."  
  
"10."  
  
"Still quite young." A second Elf appeared round the hedge, half-dragging half-carrying the obviously reluctant child.  
  
"What's his name again?"  
  
"Estel."  
  
"Oh." Bilbo could now see the child in question more clearly, and could make out darkly coloured hair and blue eyes beneath a thick layer of mud. His hair, Bilbo supposed, could've originally been blond, but had turned brown with all the muck. His clothes were battered and torn, his legging revealing grazed knees and purpling bruises. Bilbo did most definitely not envy these two Elves the task of making him presentable within a few hours.  
  
"It's just quite hard, you see. It's been a long time since there were any other children in Rivendell, and Estel seems to be more...rambunctious than I can remember them being. And my father, his foster father...he's a lore- master, you see, and not very...experienced in child-rearing. My mother did most of it, really. My father's always so busy." The Elf's tone was quite apologetic, as if trying to explain why the child was in this state.  
  
"What about his mother?"  
  
"Visiting kin, at the moment. Not that she does anything to discipline him...says it's natural, that he's just being a child...which he is, but..." The child broke free and made a break for it across the lawn..."Elven children at least let you wash them," as the child was recaptured and slung over his kidnappers shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried the last few feet towards Bilbo and the Elf.  
  
"Shall we go then?" Asked the second Elf, Elrohir, the other had said his name was.  
  
The other Elf turned and bowed to Bilbo. "It was a pleasure talking with you. Hopefully we shall meet again." He turned to follow his brother, whom Bilbo noticed was completely identical to him in every respect. The Elf paused, before turning. "And...I am sorry he disturbed your peace."  
  
"It's quite all right. Good day!"  
  
With thoughts of the banquet to come fresh in his mind, Bilbo drifted once more into a contented doze.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So, who was he?"  
  
"You have to ask?" Elladan a comb through messed hair, ignoring the outraged 'ow!' of protest and successfully extracting several twigs, leaves, and several things he did not want to identify.  
  
Elrohir tipped another pail of water over Estel, rinsing off the last traces of mud. "The hobbit that came with the dwarves. What's his name, Hildo?"  
  
"Bilbo, you fool," Giving another yank with the comb.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"What's he wearing, anyway?"  
  
"Father said he'd leave something out."  
  
"I'm not wearing it!"  
  
"I hope it's the right size, he doesn't exactly see Estel often, does he?"  
  
"For lessons."  
  
"I don't want to go to the banquet, I want to play by the river! Please?"  
  
"Estel! You have to. It's not a choice. You can play by the river tomorrow."  
  
"Can I ask - if you were playing by the river, how on Earth did you get so muddy? I would've thought that playing by the river might've left you slightly less dirty than normal."  
  
Estel gave Elrohir a look suggesting he thought him deeply stupid. "I was playing in the copse, and then you chased me everywhere. I would've played by the river, if you hadn't done ow! Stop it!"  
  
"Fine. I reckon you're about as clean as you'll get by now, so you might as well get out."  
  
"Thank you," Estel replied, still glaring, and sounding astonishingly sarcastic for one so young.  
  
"Now," said Elladan, hauling Estel out of the tub. "What to wear?"  
  
"I'm not wearing it."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Estel glared round at the assembled company, all dressed in their finest and talking about the most amazingly boring things. Even Gandalf was being boring - so far there had been no sign of his famous fireworks, or anything else that went 'bang'.  
  
And why couldn't he have gone with his mother? He liked the Dunedain. But no. He had to stay here. For his lessons. Was there anything more boring than history?  
  
At least he had his sword lessons with Elladan and Elrohir. Even if they wouldn't allow him a proper sword, one made of metal, it was fun. And he was definitely getting better! And he had beaten Glorfindel! Though, Elrohir did say that Glorfindel let him win...  
  
A light caught the fine crystal decanter jug in front of him, sparkling into a glinting rainbow of colour. The next moment, however, Elladan leaned forward, blocking the light and ending the shine of colour.  
  
Estel leaned forward, set on repositioning the jug to re-catch the light. Kneeling up on his chair, he seized the jug with both hands, twisting it slightly, dragging it towards himself. Only to find that his knees, encased in unusually fine linen, slid on the soft velvet chair beneath them, sending Estel to the floor with the jug and several platters following closely after.  
  
Oops.  
  
Estel was pretty sure Elrond would not be happy. Yes, the beautiful jug was only slightly chipped, but Estel knew Elrond's fondness for over-reacting to the slightest accidents...like that time he accidentally tripped that visiting dignitary into one of the many rivers streaming through Rivendell. He hadn't been hurt, and it was a hot day, but for some reason neither he nor Elrond saw it like that.  
  
Amid the yelps and cries from above, he heard one voice he knew only too well. "Estel!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Thank you to every one who reviewed so much! I would respond to each of you individually, but that would hold me up even more, and as hectic as my life has been, I'm not sure if this would ever get posted! 


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